“He was ’opin’ it wor nowt much,” replied Bill; “but he’s war hurt nor he thowt on, so t’ tale wor like to come out onnyway.”
Swithin had bent forward to catch the reply; but he again sat back and allowed his features to express his satisfaction.
“You’ve been putting two and two together, Swith’n, that’s easy seen,” said Ambrose admiringly. “Them een o’ yours has scanned t’ moor for stray sheep while you can see beyond ord’nary. It’s a gift ’at you’ve made t’ most on.”
“A child ’ud put two and two together i’ this case, Ambrus,” returned the other, “but there’s grown men ’at willn’t see what’s straight i’ front o’ their noses, and willn’t believe when they’re tell’d. You’ll ha’getten a glimmer yoursen, I’m thinking?”
Ambrose summoned a wise look and nodded his head in a knowing way, replying craftily—
“Owd fowk is far’er sighted nor t’ young’uns, Swith’n. Put it into words for t’ benefit o’ t’ comp’ny.”
“I will!” said Swithin; but he drained his mug before undertaking the task.
“Suppose a man slips on his doorst’n and hurts his-sen—I put it to you as man to man: is there owt to be ashamed on, and to hold back? Is there owt to make a man say ’at you mun keep your mouth shut ower t’ job? Why t’ king his-sen could happen a’ accident o’ that sort!
“But, I’ll put it to you another way: supposing a man had been where he’d no business i’ t’ night-time, and had catched his foot i’ t’ trap he wor setting for someb’dy else (and that’s a figger o’ speech as Job ’ud say, for there’s things ’at it’s best not to put into words) wouldn’t it be his first thowt to keep mum about t’ accident, till he fun owt ’at it couldn’t be done? I’m putting two and two together, Ambrus, but you may do t’ sum for yoursens.”
“You’re in your gifted mood at this minute, Swith’n,” the old man replied with ungrudging admiration, “and well we all see it.”